


Beyond Instinct

by gigi2690



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi2690/pseuds/gigi2690
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Version of a Fix-it, which basically means Myka takes Helena against various surfaces in Nate’s house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not copy or duplicate on other sites or mediums without my consent.

Myka drilled the elevated beat of her heart onto the rental SUV’s dashboard. Her eyes were fixed on the house that lay at the end of the block and the light streaming from the living room windows. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, having killed the engine nearly an hour prior. 11:30pm. She groaned- her body hunched and tight- she found herself clawing at her curls and tugging until her scalp protested the harsh treatment. She sought grounding in the sensation, only half succeeded. This was ridiculous.

And since when did she begin listening to Pete anyhow?

_The car pulled up to the curb of the rental car station. It was just a quick shuttle to the airport and they’d be gone. H.G would be gone, again. Something coarse and leaden was churning painfully in her gut, it felt like doubt and hurt and something far more terrifying. Something she hoped the thesaurus in her still processing mind wouldn’t seek to define._

_“-and then Artie and Trailer performed a tap dance to ‘Putting on the Ritz’”_

_“What?” Myka was dismayed to realize she had no idea how long he’d been talking. Her mind rolled over his last words and her nose crinkled up at his teasing, “Sorry, I guess I’m a bit spacey.”_

_The humour faded from Pete’s face, he turned to stare at her. His face scrunched up the way it always did when he readied himself to discuss ‘feelings.’ While most of their relationship was made up of teasing and rivalry, it was based on a trust that can only come from deep understanding. Though Myka liked to joke about Pete’s obliviousness,_

_He knew her better than anyone, well except perhaps...._

_...her mind derailed on the thought._

_“I know it was hard seeing her.” His voice was slow, determined yet cautionary as if approaching a caged animal. Myka balked internally at the idea until looking down to see her knees, ever so slightly, tremble. Putting her hands over her legs she released a deep breath,_

_“I just wish she would have let us know she was alright...I mean 6 months. 6 months she was –what? Living a Stepford life while we were left to wonder if she was okay. You know I asked Kosan about her?” She knew she was rambling, but she could no longer cover the wound and the words bled out, thick and heavy._

_“He didn’t tell me a thing besides that as far as he knew,” her tone made clear just how little Myka regarded the man’s insights, “she was alive and not imprisoned by the regents. And I know that should have been a comfort,” her nails dug into the fabric of her pants as Myka worried over her bottom lip, “but it wasn’t. And all that time...” she sighed, “I just wish she would have let me know she was alright.”_

_“Are you sure that’s all you wish?”_

_Myka’s eyes spun to meet his... ready to question his meaning or perhaps deny it outright, anything but,_

_“No.” The truth. Because looking at his face, he surely knew already, and with that any hope of denial was lost. It made it real. Or, more real anyway, for the conflicting tempest of emotions cresting and breaking within her certainly **felt**  real._

_Pete was quiet then, for a long while, so long that Myka wondered if the conversation was over, whether she should just throw open the door...surely they should be getting to the airport soon. But Pete seemed to be in no hurry; in fact, he was remarkably still. He just took her in: the way her hands clenched and unclenched against her thighs, the furrow in her brow, the dark cloud muddling the usually clear green of her eyes._

_“You could have asked her to come back.” And there it was._

_“She’s happy.” Myka cringed inwardly at the hollowness of her voice; at the sheer force it took to get the words past her lips._

_Pete scoffed, “Come on Mykes you don’t really buy that, even I don’t buy that. She’s hiding and I don’t blame her one bit.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. H.G. had never been his favourite topic of conversation, “I don’t think she knows how to live, normally or otherwise. Let me tell you this visit was definitely more Emily Lake than H.G Wells and while there was a time that would be a good thing in my book...” he shrugged as he trailed off._

_Myka shrugged back dejectedly. She knew Helena was hiding, but that didn’t mean she should tell her what to do, it didn’t give her the right, ”She doesn’t know what she wants.”_

_A peculiar look crossed over Pete’s face, “I don’t think that’s it.” He hesitated, looking for all the world as if he held a secret and even through her mental exhaustion part of Myka perked up, “H.G’s just not... good at wanting things. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t ...want things.”_

_“What are you saying Pete?” Myka didn’t have the energy for this and Pete had never been particularly adept at riddles._

_Groaning, he threw open driver’s side door and stepped out. He leaned down and looked at Myka, “Listen because I am only saying this once. You know I love you right? Claudia loves you, Steve, even Artie in his own grouchy way?”_

_Myka nodded absently, bewildered about where he was taking this, “but no one, no one since I’ve known you has loved you like H.G. loves you. And yeah I noticed it a while back and I wasn’t it okay with it at first” he raised his hands in defense, “I mean I’m all for rainbows and pride and you know I secretly like to work-out to Ellen but I had serious bad vibes which were totally warranted seeing as she tried to end the world...”_

_He ran a hand through his hair before smiling at her self-deprecatingly, “that got away from me didn’t it? Point is...” he tossed her the car keys, “Go get your girl.”_

_Myka frowned, a torrent of different arguments rolling through her mind but the denial that that was what she wanted was notably and surprisingly absent, “It’s not that simple Pete.” Her voice not unlike that of explaining something to a child._

_“It is. Go get her, and if she won’t come-if she wants to keep hiding-at least... Go for it Myka.”_

_Myka’s eyes darted from the keys clenched in her fist and Pete’s determined face, “I can’t-”_

_“You need this, and I think she may too.” Her resistance was crumbling. “Haven’t you said goodbye enough?”_

_And like that it was gone._

Squaring her shoulders, Myka stepped out of the SUV and made her way up to the house. It didn’t matter that it was ridiculously late, someone was obviously awake and Myka wasn’t entirely sure she could leave now even if that weren’t the case. But courage was a skittish thing and it abandoned her by the time she reached the door. 

Love Pete had said. H.G didn’t love her. Cared for her certainly, but not- and even if,  _if_ the time traveling Victorian’s feelings extended that far what did it matter when Helena was running from herself? If Pete was right and Helena did indeed love her, then Myka Ophelia Bering was the last person Emily Lake would want showing up at her door...again. And just because she found herself desperately wanting to see Helena, wanting to rip away all that was Emily Lake with an aching ferocity that felt dangerously close to needing...that didn’t give her the right. Right? 

She fidgeted on the doorstep, eyeing the kitschy doormat with distaste before turning to the Victorian styled sconces and snorting indelicately. The door opened abruptly and Myka jumped, her hand going to the sidearm at her side on instinct. 

Helena was standing in the doorway looking beautiful but tired in the same clothes as earlier, only now with her lab coat and her hair up in a loose bun. There were keys hanging limp from her right hand and she cocked an eyebrow, eyeing Myka’s grip on her gun. There was a moment where Myka thought Helena would make a quip but the spark was gone just as quick as it had appeared and Helena frowned, 

“What are you doing here Myka?” Myka didn’t answer; instead she took a small step forward while looking meaningfully at the keys in H.G’s palm.

Helena swallowed, “I thought-there is some work-” 

“Where’s Nate?” Myka interrupted, not entirely caring where Helena was going and only that she stayed.

Helena’s brows furrowed, she looked...nervous.  “He won’t be returning this evening.”  _Why_  was a passing thought, but again, Myka didn’t care. She was suddenly struck by the idea of being alone with Helena. The idea was as intoxicating as it was dangerous.

“And Adelaide?”

There was a gleam in Helena’s eyes at the name and that same rough, heavy thing dragged itself like sandpaper up along the inside of her ribcage.  “A sleepover, it was already planned and Nate figured normality was best after recent events.”  Myka couldn’t help wondering when Helena first learned the term ‘sleepover.’ The jealousy struck her hard and fast much as it had all day. It wasn’t fair that they’d gotten to see Helena adjust and they didn’t even appreciate it. They didn’t know what they had. They didn’t deserve it; they didn’t deserve her. 

Myka took another step closer, her lips quirked as Helena took a corresponding one back. Myka moved through air buzzing thicker than artifact static and shut the door behind her. The deadbolt slid home with a resounding  _thunk._

 “Myka?” Her voice was quiet now as Myka stalked closer step by step. The usually unflappable woman faltered, her fingers rising to clutch at her locket. Myka’s nostrils flared at the familiar sight. Every glimpse of Helena beneath the facade was ambrosia and Myka needed more. She didn’t bother answering, she knew there was no mistaking the look in her eyes. And for some reason, she was completely okay with that.

“You said to fight for Nate.” Myka wondered if she was imagining the bitterness behind the words. They were moving together now, one forward the other back as they made their way further into the house. Helena’s back collided softly with the wall, and Myka slunk forward until they were breathing the same air.

“I lied.” Her words as soft as her fingers as they slid across the woman’s cheek. Helena closed her eyes at the first touch, inhaling deeply through her nose.

“You said to make this my home.” There’s a gentle defiance to her tone and Myka growled, cupping Helena’s face tightly in her palm. 

“I lied.” It was a guttural sound nothing at all like her usual voice. And part of her wanted to pull back and think, to stop, but how could she with Helena so close; when she could see her flickering behind Emily Lake’s eyes? If getting her off guard was what it took to reach Helena, well Myka supposed having Helena panting and keening against her might just be the best-or at least most satisfying- way to accomplish that. 

This wasn’t how she’d intended things to go... but it was the kitschy doormat and the word sleepover and how Helena clutched the locket at her throat. And it was everything that had happened and everything that should have and when Myka pushed her lips to Helena’s it was heated and desperate, and Myka sought to express everything in the only way she seemed to have left for words had surely failed them both enough already.

It was hard, aggressive and achingly passionate and after a few stunned moments Helena fell into the kiss like the proverbial wanderer in the desert. Myka nudged her mouth open and licked along the ridge of her teeth. Helena sighed against her lips before pulling her head back with a gasp, “Myka,” she covered the hand at her cheek, questions burning in her eyes. But they were  _Helena’s_  eyes. That brilliant spark mixed with fathomless darkness. She didn’t want words and excuses and Emily Lake. Myka wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet, maybe not ever.  
  
“No,” Myka’s voice was husked and firm, silencing her with a searing kiss as she pushed Helena’s hands over her head, braceletting her wrists with her own long, slender fingers. She pressed forward until Myka’s breasts brushed against the front of Helena’s lab coat. Her breath caught, her nipples already hard and wanting under her layers. Helena moaned against her lips and it tasted like sweet surrender, the sound careening through her senses, sending a hard twitch between her legs. Myka finally relinquished Helena’s mouth when she was certain the artificer wasn’t about to try speaking again.

Her tongue danced up the line of her throat before pausing to suck at the juncture of her neck and jaw -eliciting the most glorious shuddering sigh-before sinking her teeth into her earlobe. She panted hotly into her ear, enjoying the way Helena shivered against her. And hands. She needed more hands. She moved both of Helena’s wrists into one of her hands and used the free one to yank at thin rubber and release a river of black. 

Her hand slipped up under her shirt, skirting gently over trembling abdominals and stroking up her ribcage before cupping her breasts and teasing nipples already straining against thin satin. It felt decadent but impractical, something you buy more for a partner’s benefit than your own. Myka’s mind went to Nate and her grip on Helena’s wrists tightened, pulling up higher and forcing the woman to arch deliciously off the wall and up onto her tiptoes.

Fisting her hand in Helena’s hair, she sought out passion-reddened lips once more, dragging the remaining oxygen from her lungs before biting down, tearing into Helena’s bottom lip just enough to make her bleed. H.G gasped sharply as Myka drew the lip into her mouth and sucked. Her hands tore at the white shirt, hastily undoing the buttons that went midway down before ripping the rest of way so that the shirt hung open at her sides. 

Myka’s mouth charted a course down her throat, leaving a small streak of crimson as she kissed and licked her way down to the valley between Helena’s breasts. She placed her mouth over the fabric and sucked, hard. Helena whimpered, straining against Myka’s grip.

A bolt of pure arousal shot down her spine at the sound.

Myka pulled back, releasing Helena’s wrists in favor of grabbing onto the lapels of her lap coat. She started walking backwards, leading the way to the living room from memory.  But this memory...the dark lust filled look in Helena’s eyes, her breasts heaving against the midnight blue satin, her shirt ripped and hanging open around her sides and her hair more mussed than Myka’s ever seen...this memory was far better than the ones from earlier.  When they reached the living room, H.G hesitated,  “Myka, I don't think-”

 A growl silenced her, “Tell me you don’t want this.” Her fingers fisted into her lap coat, pulling their bodies tight and making their hipbones connect jarringly. Another gasp from Helena and it was quickly becoming one of Myka’s favorite sounds.

“I cannot.” Myka grinned, pushing Helena down onto the couch. Her movements became liquid and predatory, climbing over Helena on all fours before rolling her hips down onto Helena’s, making the woman groan in frustration and desire. There was no battle for dominance... just Myka taking and Helena yielding, her back arched, an offering for Myka’s eyes and hands and mouth.

She pushed her tongue deep into H.G’s mouth to slowly stroke against and around the artificer’s tongue. She moved down, enjoying the way Helena’s pulse thundered under her lips as she bit down. Nails dug through the thin cotton of her shirt and into the soft flesh between her shoulder blades and Myka let out a somewhat smug groan at her growing desperation. At the sign that perhaps she was wanted as much as she wanted Helena, needed even. 

Myka released the now bruised and sensitive skin. The realization that Helena’s bra had a front clap came with equal parts anger and relief. With a snarl Myka ripped the fabric open, eager to drown out the jealousy with the softness and the weight of her as Myka cupped each breast and brushed her thumbs along already peaked nipples. She pressed her lips to the warm, fragrant skin of Helena’s chest and breathed in...not quite able to believe she was here.

H.G’s hands were pawing at her hips, clenching and unclenching her fingers as if trying to find purchase. Helena grunt-gasped with each bite that Myka took out of her stomach and side as she moved restlessly to taste every inch of Helena’s exposed skin.

Not enough. Her hands found the clasp of Helena’s pants, pulling them open. She paused and waited until Helena’s eyes flickered open, darkened and glazed with longing. One last chance that Helena answered by winding her fingers around the back of Myka’s neck and pulling her down for a dizzying kiss. 

Myka sat up to unceremoniously yank down Helena’s pants and underwear along with it. She pulled the shirt over her head with the same gracelessness before her mouth fell open, throat dry. Helena was a piece of art- 

the shadows painted in sweeping dips and arcs, the splattering of freckles along her collarbone and constellations along her ribs. The wet, glistening apex and short dark curls 

-certainly a masterpiece, but one to revel in and not just observe and Myka answered the beckoning finger and fell back into Helena and the heat of her mouth.

Somewhere, there was the faint taste of blood from the cut on Helena’s lip and in tandem with the nails digging into Myka’s back, it felt as if any marks made were further expression of things unsaid, the staking of a claim neither of them were willing to make aloud.

Myka smiled against Helena’s lips as she felt the woman’s hips cant upward in search of friction and relief. After she ignored Helena’s second signal for more she felt a smooth calf muscle sliding over her backside and found herself promptly pressed down onto the woman. They both moaned on contact. Myka could feel the heat of her, the thigh of her pants growing damp with Helena’s arousal.

Myka felt long elegant fingers undoing the buckle of her belt and she batted the attentions away. Helena groaned out her discontent, but yielded after the third time her questing fingers were firmly rejected. She would not be touched, not yet. She was terrified that if she were to allow Helena to touch her, when she came around her fingers she’d also come apart.

Her hand slid languidly down the sweat-slicked torso. Myka swept one finger along the length of the woman’s slit, reveling in the way H.G froze and then trembled. She responded like she’d never been touched by another and as much as Myka wish it was so, the jealousy still raging within her was a testament to the contrary. Perhaps it was because it was  _Myka_  that was touching her. The thought brought a feral grin to her lips and she sunk into welcoming heat, the heel of her hand making brief but pointed contact with Helena’s clit as she eased two fingers in.

Her fingers curled inside of Helena, who let out a cry that stuck Myka sharply between the legs. Myka ground her hips down against the back of her wrist with each thrust, the momentum making Helena’s head bump against the arm of the couch until Myka tightened her thighs to hold her in place beneath her.

Myka pounded into her; Helena wanted to slow things down, her touches soft and almost placating, but Myka was having none of it. Not with the way Helena sounded, the grunts and moans of pained pleasure as Myka sought to sink deeper into the woman with every push. There was something seductively addicting about making Helena moan like this. And Helena gave in, giving herself over to Myka’s feverish pace.

It didn’t take long before Helena was ready to explode, her cries rising in pitch. A leg wrapped itself around the back of Myka’s thighs as H.G seemed to try to crawl into Myka just as Myka had been trying to do with her. And as for a moment they came awfully close, Helena’s orgasm finally struck with a strangled shout of Myka’s name.

The moment Helena fell limp onto the cushions Myka was leaping onto her feet, running her hands through her unruly locks. She let out a shuddering sigh and attempted to catch her breath. She closed her eyes, she was achingly aroused and staring at Helena looking flushed and utterly debauched on the couch wasn’t helping.

It felt like just a second to the whirlwind of her mind but it must have been longer as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, eyes blinking open to find Helena’s deep brown eyes boring into her own. It was her though, her Helena, but Myka could see it...like the encroaching darkness at dusk, Emily Lake was there in the periphery. And of course she couldn’t have expected having sex Helena would suddenly fix everything, would free her of her need to hide in mediocrity...but a small part of her had hoped. 

Myka moved around Helena and plucked the lap coat off the couch. She held it up and slid it onto the bemused woman’s shoulders with a small smile. She wasn’t ready to leave and she wasn’t ready for the questions that would surely come if she lingered and if this was all she got, if this was her only chance...she might as well satisfy a few fantasies. She pushed Helena down onto an armchair and settled onto her lap. Like fucking Helena nude but a crisp white lab coat. Like feeling her spend against her mouth.

She allowed Helena to remove her bra, but promptly shut down any attempts to grab for her pants or the half undone belt slung low around her hips. Myka parted the lab coat enough to display the inner swell of her breasts and bent down to make love to the freckles across her sternum. Every scar no matter how small was lavished with her tongue as she made her way down to sink to her knees on the floor. Myka waited until Helena made eye contact before slowly parting her thighs, enjoying the way her breath caught and broke into shallow, staccato pants.

She spread Helena’s labia open with her fingers, pulled her eyes away to gaze at Helena’s sex, flushed pink and glistening wet from her orgasm. It wouldn’t take much. She ran her cheek along pale smooth skin before leisurely lapping up the arousal and sweat coating the inside of Helena’s thighs. 

Myka ran the flat of her tongue along the length of her sex; Helena’s thighs fell open a little wider and her hips rolled up in response. Myka slipped her tongue in- just a little- just enough to make Helena whimper out,  _Myka_ in a breathless sort of way that did unspeakable things to Myka’s insides and had her clenching her own thighs together.

Helena’s hips began undulating quickly against Myka’s mouth, too quickly. Myka intended to enjoy this as much as she could and Helena was already too close to that precipice, she could hear it in her voice, could feel it in the way Helena’s thighs quivered around her head.  Myka wrapped an arm around her thigh to cling to the muscle of her ass, exerting control over her pace and movement. Helena whimpered but merely fisted Myka’s curls and pulled her closer. 

Myka loved the hot slickness on her tongue, she loved how H.G’s hips rose and fell under her gentle instruction, she loved the breathless way Helena kept panting her name, she loved it all... and as she sent Helena into the throes of ecstasy she realized her mistake. It would never be enough. Myka wanted all of her, always. She remained on her knees, pressing gentles kisses to the inside of Helena’s thighs until they ceased trembling. She stumbled to her feet, pressed a simple kiss onto Helena’s parted lips and made her way from the room without a word. 

~.~.~

When Helena finally managed to crack her eyes open, Myka was nowhere in sight. She let out a sigh, blowing a lock of hair out of her face as she assessed the state of her muscles. She could not remember the last time a lover had incapacitated her so, but then she had always known Myka would be no ordinary lover. Feelings always complicated matters, which was perhaps why she’d never allowed herself to act on her attraction.

If only Myka had let her be. Let H.G. Wells fade away and let Emily Lake take her place. Emily Lake was a good person; H.G. would only bring destruction. But Myka, darling Myka, her fate was sealed the moment she first tasted the young woman...even if it was to the ruin of them both, Helena had never been terribly noble (recently eradicated timelines aside).

She licked her lips, tasting herself. A jolt of arousal tore through her. Her body was already ready for round three. That was what Myka did to her. As Helena had been prevented from asking questions she had been left to divine answers from Myka’s actions. The first time had tasted like desperation and anger, the second like a bittersweet goodbye.

But both times Myka had taken possession of her, controlled the pace and intensity of her pleasure and Helena had submitted without thought, equally willing to take on the rage as she was the adoration. For all of it was Myka and the woman had no idea the extent to which she had clawed her way into Helena’s battered and inhospitable heart. She got to her feet slowly, testing the steadiness of her legs. She slid the lab coat from her frame, leaving herself bare.

The sight of Myka in the kitchen captivated her, breath and soul. Myka was leaning palms down against the kitchen island, her skin seemed to glow paler than Helena remembered und the harsh florescent lights.

"Exquisite," she whispered, approaching slowly. Myka had taken and ravaged without giving much of herself in return and Helena licked her lips again, eyeing the young agent’s topless torso. As she drew close she traced lightly over the dip in her hipbones and up between her ribs, leaving goosebumps in the wake of her fingertips.

“Helena-” It was a breathless plea but Helena was unsure whether it was an admonishment or encouragement.

“Please let me touch you.” Her eyes were wide as she hovered inches from Myka. Hoping she wouldn’t have to beg,“ I  _need_  to touch you.” She lingered on a hair trigger, strong fingers sketching blueprints and then writing words against Myka’s skin as she waited. 

Myka grabbed her face and pulled their lips close, muttering a shaky  _okay_ just before their lips met. Helena’s fingers dug into mussed chestnut curls where they knotted themselves and held Myka in place while she deepened the kiss.

Her breath washed over Myka’s skin as she trailed her tongue from ear to clavicle milking a quiet whimper from the woman. One of Myka’s hands wrapped itself tightly around the back of her neck as the other clung desperately to the island at her back. Helena bent to suck at that place where neck met shoulder and used her tongue to chase the pain.

She could feel barely reined in sounds of pleasure vibrating through her throat and against Helena’s lips. Pulling back she noticed Myka’s pearly white teeth bearing down on her lower lip. Helena did not appreciate the curly haired woman’s attempts to keep quiet, her mouth moved lower, hot and relentless. 

Helena’s hands returned to Myka’s belt buckle, but this time she was not rebuked. Myka cried out as Helena entered her, the sound inciting a surge of lust and emotion that both burned and froze as it ran through her. A low purr of approval left Helena in response, her tongue swiping across Myka’s breasts, one after the other.

Myka was already so wet just from giving pleasure to Helena and Helena growled possessively as her fingers gained speed. Her eyes fluttered closed as Helena’s thumb started to make tighter circles around her clit. Myka keened, gritting her teeth and arching into Helena as the author rolled one hardened nub between tongue and teeth. 

She could see Myka’s arm on the counter trembling so Helena brought an arm around the woman, pulling and pushing until she was propped snuggly between the artificer’s lean frame and the kitchen island behind her. Fingers were dancing along the ridges of Helena’s spine as she sought to push deeper into the woman. Myka was biting just shy of drawing blood as she attempted to silence her cries and Helena-eyes dark and intent on the spot- ran her tongue along the split in her own lip.

Finally with a choked scream, Myka came against her fingertips, her head dropping boneless against Helena’s shoulder as the other woman supported her weight. It was the spasming of her diaphragm she felt first, and then the wetness that was not sweat against her neck. To Helena’s utter horror...Myka was crying.

“Myka? What is it?” Her voice was soft and laced with worry she didn’t bother to hide. She tried to pull Myka out from her shoulder to look at her, but the woman held tight and dug her nails painfully into Helena’s sides in response. And so, not knowing quite what to do, Helena held her.  Even as it had been something she’d yearned to do for so very long, her heart broke at the way Myka’s frame silently shook against her.

Time hung suspended as they clung to one another in the kitchen. A slew of different words flickered through Helena’s mind, but they crumbled to ash against her tongue before she could push any of them past her teeth. Myka’s breathing began evening out, her body stiffening just before she drew herself from Helena’s arms.

But the look on the agent’s face startled her: covetous... and livid. Myka seemed to steel her shoulders, and in her shock H.G allowed herself to be pulled towards the stairs.

She was dragged to the master bedroom. Helena unthinkingly made her way towards the bed until hands found her waist and she heard a low tutting in her ear, “Did you really think I’d fuck you there-” Myka’s voice turned harsh as it curled around the expletive and she pulled Helena tightly back against her, back to front, “where he touched you? Helena turned her head as much as she could in Myka’s firm grasp, there was no sign of her earlier distress, just a dark need in her eyes and intensity to her expression that was almost frightening.

Myka delved into into Helena’s mouth, with unmistakable ownership taking everything until Helena had nothing left to give, and then made love to her ashes. Helena sighed against the onslaught; she’d welcome ruin if it came at Myka’s hand. Myka chuckled into her mouth, her grip growing painful as small crescent moons pressed into pale hips. Helena got the feeling this time physical submission wouldn’t be enough.

Myka led Helena forward until they reached the baseboard of the queen bed’s frame. Myka grabbed both of her hands and instructed her to clutch at stained oak. Helena swallowed thickly.  Myka brushed black hair aside and pressed a gentle kiss to hairs at the nape of her neck, “Do you remember what you told officer Curtis?” the growl behind the words at odds with the soft kisses along her neck and shoulder. Helena wasn’t sure what she was supposed to answer with, but her low mewl seemed to satisfy Myka as she continued mockingly against the shell of her ear _, “I’m sure over the years you’ve impressed a lady or two by giving her a tour of the station.”_ The line ended in a bitter laugh. 

One hand crept along her hip and dipped into short, wet curls, “Not an emotion I would put to my visit – Anger, Hurt, Betrayal,” Myka’s teeth sunk painfully into a pale shoulder and Helena hissed as Myka pulled back to blow gently over the quickly blossoming mark.  “Sympathy, pity even.” Despite the lust-induced fog of her mind, Helena tried to pull away at that. The last thing she wanted was to be pitied, but Myka held strong, the hand not sliding teasingly along her entrance rising to tweak peaked nipples.

Myka snarled against her ear as she entered her,  “But  _nothing_  impresses me about Emily Lake.” Helena threw her head back against Myka’s shoulder, one hand leaving the baseboard to rise back behind her and tangle into brown curls. She held Myka’s mouth to her fevered skin, as skilled fingers began a cruel pace inside her.

“Tell me Nate never made you feel like this,” the rough words were a demand but tinged with desperation and Helena struggled to find her breath, just as anxious to answer,

“Never.” Her lips made love to the word as it came out. It meant so very much more and Helena found herself half hoping Myka would notice, half hoping the true depth of the sentiment would be lost in the wake of their passion. Her eyes slipped closed as a third finger slipped inside and that coil of need tightened considerably in her groin.

“Open your eyes.” Helena obeyed, her eyes falling back to the neatly made bed in front of them. Oh she knew what Myka was doing, claiming her here where she’d lain with Nate, attempting to eradicate his touch from her. She wanted to scream that Nate had never truly touched her: only Myka since a century in bronze and a good deal before that.

But she did not, for Helena wanted to be claimed and more pointedly (as the hand stroking up and down Helena's sides trembled) Myka seemed to need it. And there had been so few times Helena had been able to be what Myka needed.

“I need more,” the words a breathless benediction. Myka’s fingers against her skin were feather light, her thrusts purposefully missing her clit and slowly building her to excruciating new heights of pleasure with no summit in sight.

“Do you want to come?” It was a silly question, but Helena answered the teasing whisper with a shaky nod.

“Ask Nicely.” She groaned both at the words and the particularly hard thrust it was punctuated with. She jerked forward, a loud screeching and crash as the bed was shoved to the right, knocking a lamp onto the ground.

Helena did not care to beg. She had done so very rarely in her life. She could remember quite clearly the last time she’d done so-the tight metal collar around Myka’s neck and the blade poised and dripping with freshly spilt blood-she’d begged then not knowing what to do...but she knew what to do now and it was shocking in its liberation. Helena surrendered, completely,

“Let me come. Plea-se.” her voice broke over the word.

Myka pushed down with her hand on her lower back until Helena was bent over, fingers white knuckling the frame of the bed. Taking advantage of the better angle, Myka’s palm began hitting Helena’s engorged clit with every thrust. After a few minutes of Helena’s mounting cries, Myka whispered a soft command, “Come. Come for me now.” Helena shuddered and her eyes rolled back as she did just that. 

Yet again, Myka pulled away from her while she was coming down from an orgasm. It was quickly becoming a troubling pattern. Myka was quiet, her back to Helena. Unsure of how the gesture would be received, Helena slowly approached and wrapped her arms around the woman’s naked torso. A reversal of their prior positions, she let her palms flatten against the agent’s stomach, her lips ghosting against the Myka’s earlobe.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times against Myka’s shoulder and Helena chastised her famed silver tongue for absconding on her. The slightest touch of Myka’s hands on top of hers caused the artificer to smile. Myka kept silent but allowed her fingertips to draw over the skin on top of her hands and along her arms. 

The gesture grounded her and eventually the words came quiet but fervent against the shell of Myka’s ear,

“I meant it,” she chuckled under her breath, “although truthfully you had me in such a state I would have said essentially anything. But regardless, no one has ever touched me like you and I mean that in ways extending so much farther than sex. No one has ever seen me like you do, and it terrifies me more than words can express.” The hands stopped tracing patterns into her skin in favor of interlacing with her own.

Helena sighed, pressing a kiss to Myka’s shoulder before continuing, “I have come to—care for you a great deal Myka Bering,” this was the hard part, but if Myka was to leave Helena would give her the truth, it was all she had left to give, “but I have nothing to offer you. With all I have been through I don’t even feel real anymore. I will only hurt you in the end. It is what I am.” 

Myka wrenched herself from Helena’s grasp and spun around. The intense look on the young agent’s face stole the breath from her lungs... she’d always had a weakness for the passion in others. It was a flame to which she would be inextricably drawn regardless of gender, class or age. And Myka’s passion called to her own with such hitherto unfelt ferocity that she could not help but fall for the woman despite every reason in the world not to.

“You’ve already hurt me Helena.” She made to back away but Myka made to grab her wrists and held fast, “God you nearly destroyed me and I don’t mean a gun or trident,” Helena winced and nodded, she’d awoken more than once in a cold sweat to the betrayed look on Myka’s beautiful face,

“My point precisely-”

Myka interrupted her, “No my turn, you don’t get it, I don’t care.” Her eyes were wide, her voice demanding Helena listen, “Did you know I’m where Pete got the whole dead, evil or crazy thing?” Helena shook her head and a hint of a smile graced Myka’s face, “But I don’t believe that has to be the only way. Remember Rebecca? She was dying of cancer... when she went into your time machine for the last time. It wasn't an artifact or bullet, something so very mundane got her in the end.”

A strange look passed over Myka’s face and Helena tried desperately to dissect it, tried to process everything. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears; her chest felt oddly tight. What was the use of being a genius when she couldn’t even make her brain, lungs and heart work at once?

“But so what if you hurt me again. So what if I end up dead, evil or crazy,” Helena flinched at the entirely too cavalier tone in Myka’s voice, at the very idea of having a hand in leading Myka down those paths. In a manner she’d been down all three, and Myka deserved so much more. “Leaving earlier tonight hurt almost as much as pushing that gun into your hand. I’m tired of fighting this.” Softer,  “I’m tired of saying goodbye Helena.”

Helena wondered what must have shown on her face for Myka to reach up and cup her face in her palms with such aching tenderness. She melted into the touch, feeling more than hearing the woman’s words, “It might not end in tragedy Helena. We’re both due a little happiness,” Helena scoffed and though her eyes were closed she could hear the smile in Myka’s voice, “but even if you’re right...if we are to end in destruction, think of our history, it’s sure to be a glorious end.”

Helena grinned in spite of herself, “Worthy of being penned,”  _if I survive it_ remained unsaid but inescapably felt. She opened her eyes and was struck by the most adorable look on Myka’s face, eyes wide, smile bright and disbelieving, “What?” 

Myka giggled and despite her confusion Helena was charmed by the sound, “you rhymed.” 

Helena rolled her eyes, “To quote one Claudia Donovan, you are a dork Miss Bering.” 

Myka laughed and pulled Helena by her wrists, Helena allowed herself to fall into the other woman’s arms, she’d wanted to do so since having abdicated them.  “Claud has never called me Miss Bering. And it’s Agent Bering to you.” Feelings incited by the predatory gleam in Myka’s eyes had Helena pushing the woman down onto the carpet. Myka fell with a muffled  _oof,_ and the surprise on her face was delicious.

Helena straddled her, “I hope you know what you’re doing Myka.” Her voice was soft, but weighted with everything that lay between them.

 Mirth fleeing her face, Myka responded just as somberly, “So do I.” 

“Hardly comforting darling.”

“Shut up and kiss me Helena.” A command to which she instantly obeyed. Still straddling Myka, Helena seized Myka’s right leg and draped it over her hip. Her lips curved into a cocky grin as she looked down at Myka, enjoying the confused expression on her face. Then, Helena angled her hips and shifted, her grin growing as Myka’s eyes widened with awareness.

“Oh my, you feel delicious Myka.”  Helena pushed down a little firmer and Myka’s eyes rolled back into her head, a broken whimper lodging itself in the back of her throat. Slowly, Helena began to roll and grind her hips down into Myka. Heated centre to heated centre; their movements fluid, slickened from sweat and their mixing arousal. 

“Helena,” Myka keened, one hand fisting into her raven tresses as the other scraped her nails down Helena’s spine. Helena took the message with a contented groan, grinding her hips harder and faster, putting her entire momentum into her thrusts. Myka rolled up to meet her every time and the occasional pain from their colliding hipbones only added to the mounting bliss.

Myka used the hand in her hair to pull Helena down, stopping just shy of kissing her lips. Sweat soaked brow and unruly curls; that plump bottom lip caught between perfectly white teeth; her brow furrowed in searing pleasure...Helena had never seen Myka so beautiful or vulnerable and the sight tore the words, hoarse and unwilling, from her lips, 

“I’m sorry.” Her rhythm faltered and Myka’s eyes flickered open. Her eyes were clouded in arousal but quickly cleared and the understanding that blossomed across Myka’s features brought tears to Helena’s eyes.

One hand fell to Helena’s hip, guiding her pace, the other went to her face, “You are good.” Myka said, leaning up to brush her lips across the delicate skin below Helena's ear before pulling back to catch Helena’s gaze, “You are real.”

Myka no longer held back, crying out as their clits brushed, and Helena was endlessly grateful because the sounds tumbling from Myka’s throat were as obscene as they were addictive. There was something about the timbre of her voice, the way it strained and cracked, something indefinable, that set every nerve in her body aflame. Myka’s sex spasmed and Helena gasped, the feeling causing a reciprocal clenching of her own insides.

Helena did not break eye contact even as her vision blurred from tears and rapture, not when Myka began to writhe beneath her on the very edge...

 “You are enough,” Myka sighed as she arched into the hands palming her breasts. Helena's senses were out of control. Every touch almost too much, their every move imbued with profound meaning. She thought sex with Myka earlier had been phenomenal, but this...this was intense, almost transcendent, and beyond intimate. Part of her instinctively wanted to shy away from such intimacy and the vulnerability therein, but she couldn’t resist this: it went beyond instinct into a terrifying territory-

Her toes began to curl as white hot ecstasy surged within her, and Helena barely heard the words over the pounding of her heart, brushed against her lips the words in themselves a kiss, “You are Helena George Wells and you are magnificent.”

-that felt an awful lot like love. She froze and shuddered, long and hard as the orgasm swept over her and just as her spasms began ebbing Myka tumbled over after her, the feeling of her clenching and unclenching against Helena’s over sensitized sex sending her into an even more earth shattering second climax. With a scream she collapsed onto the woman below her and the room was silent but for their heavy breathing.

Helena traced over deep red bar lines painted across Myka’s ribs, wondering if she carved notes onto them Myka would elicit the corresponding sounds. It sounded like a worthy experiment were she not so utterly exhausted.

Helena’s eyes fell for the first time to the shattered remains of the lamp next to the bed. She groaned and turned to catch Myka’s smug grin, “Must you be so proud of yourself?”

Myka shrugged one shoulder, “It was an ugly lamp.” Of course it had nothing to do with the lamp and everything to do with to whom it belonged, but Helena wisely didn’t comment, choosing instead to settle her head on Myka's chest.

Helena was loathe to break the comfortable silence that fell over them, was more than content to simply lie there and listen to the steady beat of Myka’s heart under her ear, but if this thing between them were to have any chance of success Helena would have to work on her truthfulness, “I can’t go,” as she expected the body under her immediately tensed and-hastening to continue-holding tight should Myka try and pull away,

“Not yet I mean. I have to explain,” she fumbled for a moment,  “Adelaide lost her mother, and I won’t leave her without an explanation.” She wisely didn’t mention Nate although she undoubtedly had some things to explain to him too. She hadn’t had the chance; he’d taken off immediately after Adelaide had left for her sleepover. Myka relaxed under her and a giant weight was lifted from Helena, leaving her feeling almost lightheaded.

She raised her head from Myka’s chest to stare down at her. A hand rose of its own volition to stroke Myka’s flushed cheek, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her voice coming out contemplative and wistful,  “Of course it would be you who made me stop running from my truth,” and she can see the question in Myka’s eyes – whether that truth is the warehouse or Myka herself-but there had been enough vulnerability tonight so she leant down and kisses her soundly. When she pulled away again Myka’s smile was brighter than she ever remembered seeing and she could help but lean down again...

          There was freedom in that smile, and Helena longed for a taste of it.


End file.
